Psych! The Musical
by moogsthewriter
Summary: A series of short stories based off song lyrics. Primarily Shules based for now. Genres, characters, and warnings posted with each chapter. Next up is Stand by Rascal Flatts - Shules, with some fatherson fluff. Part 2 of 2.
1. Theme Song

_A/N: This is my latest creative track - songfics. I've discovered that these are a way to write a short little bit of _Psych_ so I can keep my sanity for school. These probably won't be updated regularly - just as ideas come to me. If you have any songs you'd like to see "immortalized", let me know. I can't make any guarantees, but it's always good to have inspiration!_

_And as with all great musicals, there needs to be an opening song. So what better inspiration than the _Psych_ theme song? XD This is meant to be a humorous fic from Lassie's point of view, and it's actually the only non-Shules fic I have planned at the moment, so enjoy, you non-shippers! I don't own _Psych_ or its theme song. Oh, and there's an itty bitty spoiler for the Pilot episode. _

_Enough babbling. On with the story!_

_GENRE: HUMOR  
CHARACTERS: SHAWN, LASSITER  
WARNINGS: NONE_

_"I know you know  
That I'm not tellin' the truth.  
I know you know  
They just don't have any proof."  
Psych_ Theme Song

Spencer absolutely infuriated him.

Without a doubt.

That was what Carlton Lassiter thought as he sat on the park bench and caught a glimpse of the "psychic" (who believed that bull, anyway?) strolling towards him, a cocky smirk on his face. How the hell did Spencer even know where he was?

There was no way Spencer was psychic. Lassiter had rejected that from the very beginning. Spencer had some inside contact, or an illegal phone tap - which Lassiter would give his badge to bust - or something. Whatever it was, it was not mystic, psychic, mumbo-jumbo. Lassiter was positive about that.

But there was still the problem of the "psychic" (no way that was true) being in _this_ particular park on _this_ particular day at _this_ particular time. No one knew that Lassiter came to this park bench to eat lunch (consisting of a chicken salad sandwich on rye bread, an apple, a bottle of water, and two chocolate chip cookies) on Thursdays almost every week since he was forced into taking this day off.

The concept of him needing a day off was ridiculous, now that he thought of it. He was in his prime - he didn't need a break. What on earth was Karen - Interim Chief Vick - insinuating anyway?

So he sent a rookie home in tears her very first day. She should have known better than to ask him such a ridiculous question when he was so tense. Honestly - where was the copier? Rookies. It wasn't _his_ fault he was worked up about a triple homicide with the mayor and the DA breathing down his neck and certain not-so-helpful-in-_this_-realm psychic hounding him at every turn.

Which brought him right back to the question - how did Spencer find him here? This was a good half-hour walk from any of the places he frequented (his apartment, the police station, and a small bar) and _no one_ knew about it.

…Except maybe O'Hara.

She probably told him, he fumed silently, trying to keep his gaze focused on a group of college-aged punks chucking a Frisbee around in their wild attempt to knock each other's teeth out. Or so it appeared to Lassiter, anyway.

He'd watch these idiots as long as he didn't have to acknowledge the idiot walking towards him like a man on fire.

"Heya, Lassie!"

Lassiter bit violently into his apple, hoping that this would end up being some kind of horrible talking mirage - something brought on by too much work. Or that glass of scotch before bedtime. Maybe it was all some alcohol-induced dream.

Yeah, a nightmare. A grotesque, horrible -

"Just the man I was looking for!" Spencer declared loudly, flopping down onto the seat next to him with a triumphant sigh.

- reality.

Lassiter literally felt the air grate past his vocal chords as he hissed, "What are you doing here, Spencer? Since you, the Chief, and the city of Santa Barbara all insist I take at least one day a week off, I'd really prefer not to see you at all on said day."

"City? Lassie, New York's a city. Santa Barbara is more of a… sprawling town in comparison," Spencer remarked.

Lassiter had to clench the empty sandwich bag in his fist to avoid clenching it around the younger man's neck. "What the hell do you want, Spencer?"

Spencer, in typical Spencer fashion, didn't reply right away. Instead, he leaned back on the bench, crossed his leg, and bounced it in time with some tuneless song he began humming.

_Humming._

Lassiter ground his teeth together fiercely. "Sometime _today_, Spencer," he ground out. What he wouldn't give at the moment for the chance to use his Glock.

Or a nightstick.

Or his fists, for that matter.

_Anything_ to stop that incessant humming. The younger man simply shifted again, his leg bouncing a little more wildly. Lassiter vaguely recognized it as a sign of nervousness, but he could really care less at that moment. "Spencer, I swear, if you don't spit it out in the next-"

"I need you to be a distraction."

Lassiter blinked, narrowing his eyes dangerously to hide his shock. His voice was carefully kept flat. "What."

"I need a way to distract Karen next Thursday," Spencer hurriedly said, his hazel eyes flashing around anywhere but Lassiter's face.

Lassiter twisted subtly to get a better look at him. This was a side of the exuberant consultant that he hadn't ever really seen before - pure nervousness. Not even the first time Lassiter met him - in an interrogation room. Men twice Spencer's weight had often quailed in fear after being with Lassiter in the interrogation.

Not Spencer. No, Spencer had mocked him openly without even a flinch. Lassiter had never felt more aggravated in his life until that moment. Oddly enough, that feeling was now almost a daily occurance.

Nevertheless, the Head Detective found himself curious, in spite of his misgivings. "Why?"

"It's her birthday. I've been working with her husband-"

"How did you know?" Lassiter cut in sharply.

"How to get a hold of her husband? A phone book, Lassie. They're useful. You should read one sometime," Spencer said with a grin, finally making eye contact with the Head Detective.

"I meant about her birthday - that's not something she's ever shared with _anyone_ in the station," Lassiter shot back, his tone icy.

Spencer shot him a look. "Lassie. Seriously. You have to ask? It's me!" Lassiter merely snorted in reply. "_Anyway_," the (non)psychic continued, "I've been working with her husband to get a small get-together planned. Nothing much - after all, like you said, it's not something she likes to share with the station. It's mostly with her friends outside work and some of her family members. And you, me, my dad, Gus, and Jules - apparently we're her favorites. We're all Jason - her husband - hears about, anyway."

Lassiter stared at him silently, concealing his surprise at this statement. Apparently this was enough motivation for Spencer to rush on. "We need you to figure out a way to keep her at the station an extra hour. That way me, Gus, and Jules can help Jason put up the rest of the decorations and get everyone settled while he goes to pick up their daughter."

"What kind of distraction?" Lassiter asked coolly.

Spencer shrugged, getting to his feet. He spun around on his heels to face the detective. "That's something I leave up to you. So could you? Please?"

"How did you really know it was her birthday?" Lassiter asked. When Spencer opened his mouth to reply, he added, "And don't feed me any of that 'psychic' crap, either."

"I'm hurt you still doubt my abilities, Lassie!" Spencer exclaimed, holding a hand to his chest and closing his eyes as if mortally wounded.

"Abilities, my-" Lassiter suddenly paused as a movement to the right and behind the shorter man caught his attention. His eyes widened as he caught sight of the bright red blur of a Frisbee rocketing towards Spencer's head. "Sp-"

Without opening his eyes, Spencer reached up and caught the disc before casually tossing it back at the college students. Lassiter stared in shock as the Frisbee settled into the grass at the feet of the kid who had thrown the disc. He was staring in bug-eyed shock, ignorant of the disc at his feet. The slack-jaw expression on his face matched Lassiter's inward reaction.

"So? What do you say, Lassie?" Spencer asked with a grin, opening his eyes and acting as if nothing had happened.

Lassiter opened his mouth, then closed it soundlessly, staring from the Frisbee players to Spencer and back again. He shook himself once, then calmly said, "Fine. But I can't make any guarantees."

"Awesome! You rock, Lassie! I'll leave you to enjoy the rest of your lunch - at least, the chocolate chip cookies. I see you already finished the chicken salad on rye. See ya later! Oh, and not a word of this to Vick - we want it to be a surprise!" Spencer finished happily as he walked away.

As he passed the college students, one of them shouted, "Dude, how'd you do that?"

Spencer smirked and tapped the side of his head. "Psychic," he said with a wink, glancing over at Lassiter, who promptly scowled.

"Du-ude," one kid breathed in awe as Spencer walked away.

Lassiter furiously reached down to the paper bag at his feet, opened it, and pulled out his cookies. He had finished the sandwich before Spencer had even appeared, but that didn't matter. There was no way Spencer was psychic.

Lassiter glanced over at the Frisbee flying through the air as he munched a cookie. Inside information - that's how Spencer pulled off his act, Lassiter decided.

Inside information, and a keen sense of when to duck… or grab a Frisbee.

Nothing more.

_A/N: And cue the curtain! As always, reviews are highly encouraged. Thanks so much for reading!_

_moogsthewriter_


	2. First Time

_Alrighty-dighty! Just a couple quick review replies:_

_**Sanghian** - Thank you! Glad you enjoyed it!_

_**raindropsX** - Glad you liked it. I'll keep the suggestion in mind - I can't make any promises, just because my muse has a mind all its own so I never know what it'll come up with. But I'll make sure to check out the song!_

_**winged-monkey** - Heehee, glad you liked it! Good luck with school yourself, girl!_

_This one's just a short little oneshot. I don't own "First Time" or Psych. Enjoy1_

_GENRE: ROMANCE, FLUFF  
CHARACTERS: SHAWN, JULIET  
WARNINGS: NONE_

_We're both looking for something  
We've been afraid to find  
It's easier to be broken  
It's easier to hide  
Looking at you, holding my breath,  
For once in my life, I'm scared to death,  
I'm taking a chance, letting you inside.  
_Lifehouse_, "First Time"_

He knows she went through something unpleasant back in Florida. What it was exactly, he's not entirely sure, although he could probably hedge a guess if he really wanted to.

He knows she's struggling with what she's feeling. The look in her eyes when he finally asked the question he's been longing to ask her since she stole his seat in the diner on that fateful, perhaps even star-crossed day tells him that. She's afraid to open herself up to vulnerability again - to let someone back into her torn and mangled heart.

He knows she thinks it would be easier to laugh it off. The slight part of her lips gives that away - as if she's prepared to do just that. She wants to stay isolated from her feelings… maybe even from him.

But he knows that she's nowhere near as nervous as he is.

He doesn't know how it's possible, but somehow she's wormed her way into the deepest recesses of his proverbial heart without even a single date. She's managed to unlock a part of him he hasn't seen since high school.

He hopes this doesn't turn into a repeat of history. It took over ten years for him to truly recover from the last time he felt real rejection from a girl. And judging by how his heart hasn't beat since he asked the question, he doesn't think he'll ever be able to recover if she lets out that laugh threatening to emerge.

He's been terrified plenty of times in his life. He's faced death head-on, sometimes with Gus, sometimes by himself. But even then, he never felt as scared as he felt now.

She may be taking a risk if she decides to answer in his favor, but he's taking a huge chance in even asking her in the first place. Even now, in this long stretch of shocked silence, he can feel the door to his heart being quickly locked up and hidden by a brick wall the longer she goes without saying the word he so longs to hear.

Then her lips close and open again, and the words that pass through them is barely above a whisper, but they sound like a gigantic, melodious gospel choir blaring in his ears.

"Sure. A movie sounds great."

Suddenly his heart is beating - not just beating, _soaring_, in his chest again, and the wall begins to crumble again at the look in her eyes.

This was one risk definitely worth the taking.

_A/N: Feedback is appreciated! Thanks so much for reading!_

_moogsthewriter_


	3. Hero

_A/N: Alrighty, I'm back - had some issues over break with health and computers and such. Unfortunately, I don't have the next part of Vengeance ready yet, but I'm working on it. Figured I'd hand this over to you guys to tide you over for a bit, as well as a celebration for the new episodes starting up again tonight!! Unfortunately, I haven't had time to write a Christmas songfic, but there may be one coming, even if it's not Christmas time. _

_In any case, thanks so much for the reviews last chapter. I found out that review replies in stories are highly discouraged, so I won't do them any more unless I have a repetitive question or an anonymous review with a question. (I also found out songfics are rather discouraged... but I haven't recieved any warnings yet, so I'm not going to stop at the moment...) Thanks to **PsychFan81692, winged-monkey, raindropsX, **and **Sanghian** for the awesome reviews last chapter._

_For those of you on Psychfic, this is a bit out of order... no particular reason, I just wanted to post this one first. So... this is part 1 of a two-part fic. Warnings and such listed below. Large chunks of italics are flashbacks._

_Oh, quick question before we go on - I wrote an episode of the Virtual Season that was "aired" (so to speak) on the Psychfic forum... anyone interested in reading it? (Or rereading it, for a few of you...)_

_Enjoy!_

_GENRE: ANGST, ROMANCE  
CHARACTERS: SHAWN, JULIET  
**WARNINGS: SEVERE ANGST, POSSIBLE TEAR-JERKER, TISSUE-WARNING**_

_Now would you die  
For the one you loved?  
Hold me in your arms, tonight._

_I can be your hero, baby.  
I can kiss away the pain.  
I will stand by you forever.  
You can take my breath away.  
_Enrique Iglesias_, "Hero"_

The first thing Juliet O'Hara noticed when she woke up again was the darkness. The blindingly white fluorescent lights had been turned off. She was grateful for that - her head pounded enough at the moment without having a blinding light aggravating it.

The next thing she noticed was she was no longer bound. The painfully sticky duct tape had been removed from her wrists and ankles. She reached up, wincing as pain shot through her shoulder, and gently probed the skin around her mouth. Her jaw was swollen on one side to the point where she knew it would hurt to move it, but the tape was gone. She could feel a slight tackiness of tape residue on her skin. Her captors must have freed her after she passed out.

_Wait… that wasn't quite right_, she suddenly thought with confusion. Her eyebrows furrowed in concentration. What was wrong with the thought? She knew she had been bound… now she was free… she was in pain, but still alive… her captors-

No. Not _her_ captors, she realized with dawning horror. _Their_.

She sat up slowly, heedless of the pain, her heart beating with fear. She tried to make her eyes focus in the dark, looking for any sort of movement or outline that might tell her-

In the silence of the room, his barely audible whimper of pain sounded like a rock concert turned up full blast in her ears.

"Shawn?" she whispered, wincing as she moved her jaw slightly. She didn't think it was broken, but it had certainly come close to it.

"J-Jules," he moaned, his voice laced with both pain and relief.

Steeling herself against the pain, she crawled in the direction of his voice. She paused as her fingers collided with something. She quickly grabbed the object before it rolled out of her reach. Then she moved towards him again with what felt like a small penlight clenched tightly in her fist.

With each movement she took towards him, she thought, _This is all my fault_. Each flash of pain was like a hammer blow, driving the point home move after painful move…

_"O'Hara, I have to admit - we're all getting worried about you. You're getting in way over your head - you said it yourself. This isn't just about drugs anymore - it's about murder." _

_"I'm fine, Carlton. And I'll be fine. You'll see."_

_"Still… maybe we should have someone start going in with you. For backup."_

_"Chief, that could jeopardize the entire thing!"_

_"She does have a point, K- Chief. The entire reason you put her on this case is because the rest of us are too recognizable."_

_The trio turned as the door suddenly opened and their resident "psychic" bounced in the room, a large grin on his face._

_"Hey, what's going on, guys?"_

Juliet was pulled back into the present by the feel of blood under her fingers. It was thick and tacky, suggesting it had been pooling there for awhile. Which made sense, when she thought about it. After all, he-

Her thoughts were cut off by another low moan as her hands brushed a piece of tattered cloth. She moved her hand another inch forward and made contact with something much more solid. The tangy, metallic scent of blood hung heavy in the air, and she could feel even more tacky blood on whatever part of Shawn's body she was touching at the moment. As far as she could tell, it was his arm. Steeling herself, she shifted the light in her left hand so that she could flick it on. The feeble beam fell on him, and she gasped.

His body was completely battered - she couldn't see any part of him that didn't have at least a thin layer of blood coating it. His face was swollen and colored. One eye was hidden by the bruises around it. His slow, shallow breaths were gurgling slightly, and she could see a thin trail of blood streaking down his face from the corner of his mouth. The arm she was touching twisted awkwardly at the elbow, and both of his legs appeared to be broken. "Oh, Shawn…" she choked out.

He opened one bleary eye at her. The hazel orb was glazed over, and the pupil took a little bit to react to the light. "You… 'kay?" he hissed through barely parted lips.

"Been better," she replied softly, raising her free hand to stroke his swollen jaw lightly. In the light, she could see two of her fingers were twisted and broken. His eye fluttered shut as his cracked lips twisted slightly into the faintest hint of a smile.

"Good," he breathed, tension flooding from his shoulders for a brief moment before returning with a sharp hiss of pain.

Her vision began to swim as tears filled her eyes. "I'm so s'rry," she murmured, ignoring the protests from her jaw at the movements. "'S'all m'fault."

_"Oh, yeah? Then explain this… Amber," Rodriguez sneered, snapping his fingers. As the door opened, he added, "Or should I call you Juliet?" _

_Her eyes widened in horror as a familiar figure was dragged through the doorway, struggling against the grips of two large men. "Shawn!" she cried, desperately trying to wrench her arms from Lopez's firm hold. Shawn's eyes widened, but he couldn't speak through the tape over his mouth._

_"We caught him following you, and it only confirmed our suspicions, Juliet. You are not who you told us you were," Rodriguez said sadly, pulling something from his pocket. Juliet had to work to stop herself from gulping loudly as the drug lord slid the fingers of his right hand into a set of iron knuckles._

_"I think you remember what I said about double-crossing me when you first signed on. And you should know by now I mean what I say," the giant of a man continued as he strode over to her. _

"No, 's'not," he suddenly slurred, cracking his eye open again. "'S'mine. Blew y-your… cover."

"M' c'ver was 'lr'dy blown," she replied. "Lopez saw me go t' the st'tion once." She lightly threaded her fingers through the fringe of his ratty, filthy hair. "Why? Why'd you try t' st'p him?"

"I h've… a… h-hero c-c'mplex," he groaned, a thin smile on his lips.

_The first few blows were agonizing. The kingpin slammed his fist into her ribs, her arm, and her face. The blow to her jaw nearly sent her into blackness. Even now, Juliet was down on her knees, gasping for air, trying to force air into her tormented lungs so the haze clouding her vision would clear. _

_Over the pounding in her ears, she became aware of Shawn's muffled screams. She raised her head slightly to make eye contact and was surprised to see tears pricking at his eyes_

_Rodriguez followed her gaze and looked at him. "Well, well. Looks like pretty boy over there wants in on the fun!" he exclaimed with a dark chuckle._

_Her heart thudded in panic. "No… no. Leave 'im 'lone. He didn' do an'thin' t' you!" she slurred._

_Shawn yelled something through his gag - something that was obviously directed at the drug lord. "That doesn't mean he doesn't want to," Rodriguez replied casually as the two men dragged the pseudo-psychic forward. Rodriguez yanked the gag off his face, then firmly grasped his jaw. "Would you give your life for her?" he demanded fiercely._

_"In a heartbeat," Shawn replied immediately. Her throat closed up when he glanced at her._

_Rodriguez sneered. "So be it."_

Her eyes watered at the response. "Shawn…"

"Jules," he interrupted in a low whisper, staring up at her blearily. "'S'kay. I d'n't m'nd. Was… worth it."

"I need t' ge' you ou'," Juliet murmured, twirling her bruised and battered fingers in his hair.

A ghost of a smile touched his face. "L'ssie's c'm'ng," he breathed, his eye fluttering shut. "You'll b' f'ne."

"Wh't 'bout you?" she asked immediately, tears streaming down her face, stinging the wounds on her cheeks. "Shawn!"

_She sobbed helplessly as bones cracked under the numerous blows Rodriguez and another thug sent into the psychic's sagging body. Every now and then she caught a glimpse of his face. His eyes were squeezed shut, and blood trickled down his chin as he bit his lip, trying not to cry out. "Shawn!" _

_The two criminals paused, their glances moving back and forth between the two. "Now isn't this romantic?" Rodriguez sneered, a smug look on his face. _

_"Pl'se - pl'se, jus' st'p," she begged, tears flowing freely down her cheeks. "Leave 'im 'l'ne."_

_Rodriguez opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by a dazed and slurred voice. "T'ch 'er 'gain an' I'll kill you."_

_Rodriguez turned back with some surprise to look at Shawn. He was staring as defiantly as was possible through puffy eyelids. The drug lord's gaze hardened. "Take her out of here," he ordered Lopez, his voice deathly calm. "I want to have some more fun with this one."_

_"No! No! Shawn!" she screamed, not caring that the yells were setting her throat and jaw on fire. She struggled vainly as she was dragged towards the doorway. "Shawn!"_

_His jaw set defiantly as he looked at her. "Love you, Jules," he declared as the door closed, blocking him from her view._

"Shawn, stay wi' me!" she begged as his body gradually went limp. "Shawn!"

She waited with bated breath, staring at his bloody face with anxiety. She was dimly aware of sounds outside the door, and felt the faintest flutter of terror at the possibility that Rodriguez could be returning.

That terror was drowned in the torrent of fear that flooded through her when his gurgling breaths suddenly hitched, then ceased.

"Shawn!" she screamed, her hands shaking as she loosely gripped his face. "Pl'se! Don' go! Shawn!"

The door suddenly burst open and several people flooded into the room. "O'Hara! Are you - oh, my God..."

"Somebody call an ambulance. NOW!"

She ignored them, the face cradled in her hands the only reality for her. "Shawn! Pl'se, y' c'n't go!" she cried, shaking his head slightly in a feeble attempt to get him to respond. A pair of hands lightly grabbed her shoulders.

"O'Hara, you need to let us help him. O'Hara. Juliet!"

"NO!" she screamed again, wrenching herself free from the grip and throwing herself over his battered body. "Leave 'im 'l'ne!"

"Juliet, please, you need to back away. We're not going to hurt him."

This time the grip was much firmer as it pulled her away from him. She realized who the gruff voice was and relaxed in Lassiter's grip slightly, her heart thudding with fear. "H'lp him!" she screamed, turning to look up at the older man.

Steel blue eyes looked back at her, the faintest hints of sorrow hidden within them. "We'll try," he promised as medics flooded into the room.

She focused her gaze back on his motionless body as the medics started working on him, heedless of the agonizing pain running through her body. Sounds faded around her as blackness started taking over her mind. Teardrops still rolled down her face as she stared at him. Lassiter's grip tightened slightly when he heard her whispered words.

"I love you, too, Shawn."

_A/N: Well... I think you know what to do - comments are always appreciated! And don't forget to let me know if you're interested in that other story! (Eyes the pitchforks and torches) Um... I'm just gonna go now..._

_Thanks for reading! And in the words (or language, rather) of J.R.R. Tolkein... _

_Namárië! (Farewell!)_

_moogsthewriter_


	4. Stand

_A/N: Sorry to make you guys wait for the update... kinda slipped my mind. Heheh. Anyway, thanks to **PsychFan81692, raindropsX**, and **winged-monkey** for your awesome reviews last chapter! Thanks so much! Enjoy this!_

_GENRE: FLUFF, ROMANCE  
CHARACTERS: SHAWN, JULIET, HENRY, GUS  
WARNINGS: FLUFNESS!_

_'Cause when push comes to shove,  
You taste what you're made of.  
You might bend 'til you break  
'Cause it's all you can take.  
On your knees you look up,  
Decide you've had enough.  
You get mad, you get strong,  
Wipe your hands, shake it off,  
Then you stand.  
_ Rascal Flatts, "Stand"

"Come on, Shawn, you can do this. I know you can."

Henry Spencer chuckled silently as he took another sip of coffee, watching the pair interact in front of him. Juliet O'Hara stood at the end of the bars, urging his son forward. Shawn muttered something under his breath as he readjusted his grip on the bars. The blonde giggled and blushed, but merely urged him forward again.

Henry's glance flicked over the couple. Juliet was relatively healed up from their captivity almost seven months ago, although her shoulder was still in a sling from her last surgery to restore her mobility. Her fingers were now permanently a little crooked, and she had needed to get three new teeth implanted in the back of her jaw.

Shawn's recovery had been much harder. The elder Spencer felt his stomach lurch slightly as he stared at his son, his mind conjuring up the image of him lying bruised and battered in a hospital bed, seemingly hooked to every machine possible, fighting just to stay alive. Two of his ribs had punctured his left lung - one from Rodriguez's beating, and one from when medics were forced to perform CPR to get him breathing again on that warehouse floor. His elbow had been shattered, his jaw broken, his left eye damaged, and both legs severely broken. There had been a hairline facture in his skull, and massive internal bruising throughout his body. His spleen had ruptured on the way to the hospital, and was promptly removed.

He watched, a lump in his throat, as Shawn took a tentative step forward. Juliet smiled and clapped encouragingly along with the physical therapist. Over the last few weeks, Shawn had been undergoing intense physical therapy, trying to regain the use of his legs. It was a miracle he had even reached this point.

Both Henry and Gus had spent long nights in the hospital, keeping vigil at both Juliet and Shawn's bedsides. Somehow Lassiter and Vick had managed to get the pair in the same hospital room. Juliet had been released from the hospital a week and a half after the ordeal, but it had been another week before Shawn had awoken from his deep coma. Henry's back was just starting to recover from those endless hours in the hard plastic chair.

The former policeman took another sip of his coffee as he watched Shawn take another step forward. He knew it wouldn't be long before Shawn would be moving around like his old self. He would probably always have the faintest of a limp, but Henry knew just how stubborn Shawn could be when he wanted to do something.

_"Henry, I really think he's trying to walk!"_

Henry glanced up as his wife scooped up the seven-month-old baby and settled him on her hip. "He just started crawling a couple months ago, Claire. He can barely stand. I think it's going to be awhile before he can walk."

"But you even said he's a quick learner," Claire pointed out, setting a giggling Shawn in his high chair. She tickled his stomach, and the boy squealed with delight. Chuckling, she made sure he was well secure in his seat before she moved to prepare lunch for the three of them. "Most babies can't stand on their own until they're almost a year old, Henry."

"He is_ a quick learner. But it will still take a lot of effort for him to be able to walk. Especially if his body's not physically ready yet," Henry replied, moving so that he was crouching down in front of the high chair. Shawn grabbed his outstretched finger shyly. The kid was just starting to warm up to him, and it took a lot to get him to laugh for his father. _

_"I wouldn't underestimate him, Henry," his wife responded, setting a plate with his sandwich on the table. "After all, he is his father's son."_

"How's it going?" a voice called.

They all turned to see Gus walk into the room, a large Styrofoam cup in his hand. "Just great! I think I'll be able to compete in the Boston Marathon next week - maybe even win!" Shawn replied sarcastically.

"He's doing great," the therapist filled with a smile. "I'm very impressed."

"Well, I may have a little extra motivation for him, then," Gus said with a sly grin, moving so he was standing by Juliet and waving the cup in the air.

Shawn grinned. "Is that pineapple?"

Juliet snatched the cup from Gus' hand and took a long sip. "Mmmm," she sighed with content, smacking her lips. "Yep!"

"Jules! I'm hurt!" Shawn exclaimed, taking a hand off the bar to put it over his heart. "That's mine!"

"Mmmhmm," Juliet answered distractedly, taking another long draw from the straw. "Then I suppose you should get over here and have some," she added with a grin.

Henry and Gus both burst out laughing at the incredulous look on Shawn's face. Then a determined look crossed his features, and he smirked. "Fine, then."

_"I should be back in a few hours. There's some leftover lasagna in the fridge for you, and I just fed Shawn, so he should be fine. I would expect he would fall asleep within the next hour or so," Claire declared, slipping on her jacket. A slight look of confusion crossed her face as she slid her hand inside her jacket pocket. She pulled out a small plastic police car and laughed. "Here you go," she added, handing the toy to her husband. _

_"Okay. Have a good time," Henry declared, opening the door for her._

_She smiled brilliantly at him and kissed him softly. "Thanks, hon," she whispered. She glanced back over at the boy seated in the middle of the living room floor. "Bye, Shawn!" she called, waving._

_Shawn cooed and laughed, wiggling his fingers back at her. Henry couldn't help but smile at the sight. He closed the door as Claire headed out for the car, then turned back to face his son. "Looks like it's just you and me, kiddo," he declared._

_Shawn blinked up at him owlishly, his hazel eyes wide. Henry took a step forward, then paused when he saw Shawn's gaze move to the toy still clenched in his hands. He glanced at the car. "You really like this toy, huh, kiddo?"_

_Shawn cooed in apparent agreement. Henry watched with some amusement as a resolved look set across his tiny face. He crawled to the nearby table, then used it to hoist himself up to his feet. _

_Henry cocked his head in surprise as the tiny child took a wobbly step forward, his chubby fingers still resting on the table. The elder Spencer got down to his knees slowly, holding out the car. "Come on, son. Come on," he encouraged softly._

_Shawn hesitated, his eyes flicking from his current position to where his father was. If Henry didn't know better, he would've thought Shawn was calculating just how much effort it would be to walk the distance without the support of the table. _

_At long last, he took a small step forward. His hands left the table, wobbling in the air as his body teetered dangerously. His face set in determination again, and he took another shaky step. _

_Henry felt a grin spreading across his face. "That's it, Shawn. You're doing great!"_

_The tiny Spencer took another step, more confident this time, then began moving forward more quickly. With another six steps, he was almost within Henry's reach. He stretched his tiny arms towards his father, but the movement threw him off-balance slightly. His eyes widened comically as he started tipping forward._

_"Gotcha, kiddo," Henry exclaimed, lurching forward slightly to catch his falling child. "Nice work, buddy," he complimented, cradling the boy to his chest and handing him the car. Shawn took the car, beaming up at his father, his eyes shining._

They all watched in astonishment as Shawn lurched forward another four steps. He winced slightly as he paused, then moved forward again. Juliet let out a small sound of shock as the pseudo-psychic reached her, wrapping a hand around her neck and jerking her forward. Any protest was quickly silenced as their lips collided.

Henry shook his head ruefully as Gus rolled his eyes at the pair, snagging the smoothie cup from Juliet as she moved to wrap her good hand around his neck. The therapist chuckled, then said to the pair not involved in a lip lock, "She obviously provides a lot more motivation than I'll ever be able to."

Henry chuckled, his eye catching the glint of light reflected off the ring on Juliet's finger as the pair broke apart. "Nice work, buddy," he called. Shawn glanced at his father, his eyes shining with delight, just as they had been thirty years ago.

_A/N: So... that's one previous order of serious Shules angst, combined now with some cute Shules as well as a heaping helping of dad-crush. It appears that your total is 1 review. Please pay at the box below. Thanks for reading! _

_Namárië! _

_moogsthewriter_


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